


Heaven and High Waters

by hypeQueen



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypeQueen/pseuds/hypeQueen
Summary: Sometimes those who take of others don't realize they need someone to take care of them once in a while. Luckily Sidney Crosby has Flower for that.





	1. High Waters

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy. Written with Flower still on the pens. Clearly I improvised some stuff in for Flower's life.

Crosby: Hey, Coach. I just wanted to let you know that I will not be able to come to practice today. I got pretty sick last night and don’t think I should be out on the ice. Sorry.  
Coach Sully: Alright, Crosby. Do you need me to send a trainer over there?  
Crosby:I’m okay. I’ll be back tomorrow. 

When Coach Sullivan relayed the news of Sid’s absence to the group in the locker room before commencing practice, Flower began texting the Lemeieuxes knowing if Sid hadn’t talked to him, he’d probably told them. 

Flower: Have you guys heard from Sid today?  
Mario: I haven’t, hasn’t responded since after last night’s game. Seemed pretty rough to me.  
Flower: Alright, thanks. I’m gonna head over there after practice. 

The locker room had a weird vibe after practice missing their captain making Flower even more anxious to get over to his friend. Tossing his gear in the back of his car, Flower drove the familiar route to his best friend’s home. Sid’s condo, simply down the street from Mario’s place, always somehow managed to never seem overly large for one person but could also fit a hockey team for dinners and random team stuff done by their captain. 

Upon entering, Flower noted a few things: the front room lights were off, he could hear the sizzle of the kitchen stove, and once reaching the nice carpet in the hallway on the way to the kitchen was an empty whiskey bottle. Greeted with Sidney’s back when he walked in, Flower let his keys fall on the counter to announce his entrance. Sid turned back, surprise coloring his features at his friend standing in his kitchen. 

“Hey, how was practice?” He asked, pulling the salmon off the pan and onto the plate he had beside him. 

“Good, good. Are you okay? Coach said..” Turned around, Flower really saw Sidney- clearly listless, slumped shoulders, just grey with exhaustion but also something more. Sid awkwardly stood in the eyes of his best friend as he pulled out utensils for his lunch. He side stepped through the kitchen seemingly attempting to be conspicuous about it before slowly and subtly swiping something off the counter.  
“Yeah, feeling a lot better now. Must’ve ate something.” Sid mumbled as he slipped the object into his hoodie. Sid had never wished something more than Flower not to mention it as his gaze tracked the movement. 

“So you really were sick?”

“Of course I was.” Sid almost scoffed, but the thing about Sidney Crosby is that he simply can not bold faced to Flower. The selling of the statement was non-existent and that’s the moment he knew this was going South for him. 

“So the bottle in the hallway?” 

“You know that’s not me to just blow off my job like that.” Sid noted as he stabbed into his fish.  
“Okay, so what was that thing you grabbed from the counter?” At that moment, Sid’s face plummeting, leaving just the dust of impact. 

“That was nothing and we are not doing this. I was sick but I will be back tomorrow, Flower.” 

“You and I both know that I don’t just care about hockey. So cut the crap and just tell me what’s happening, Crosby.” Flower impossibly managed to make his voice demand from Sidney but also in the most concerned, caring way possible. Marc-Andre knew it was more. He had known something had been going on from the moment he met Sidney Crosby. But he’d also known Sidney, meaning the only time he’d ever heard him truly open up was the miniscule amount of times he’d had to be tucked in drunk. 

It was always a weird experience to tuck in the intoxicated hockey legend. It’d only happened a few times but Sidney would always quietly whisper, in a way you’d almost miss you weren’t listening close enough. Once while being walked to a guest bedroom in Flower’s house, Sid had quietly told him about his anxiety for the season, the fears that plagued him surrounding hockey. Another time he had told Flower about the sign tacked in his room, the one frayed at the edges on fading paper with the words ‘be better’ emboldened. He told how the sign had been with him for years from junior league to his new place. He quietly told Flower about how the sign itself encompassed the fears of him to continuously work and work but never make anything. He’d never be ‘better’. But as all the conversation had been, the next morning it was forgotten by Sid or pushed so deeply down that Flower could do nothing but watch his mask reappear. 

Back in the kitchen, Sid rocked back onto his heels to lean on the counter.  
“Flower, now you’re just grabbing for straws, do you want a drink or are you needing to be somewhere?” Sidney was purely trying to turn the conversation in any other direction than where they were going, and Flower was weirdly receptive about it. 

“What beer you got?” He asked as Sid motioned for him to help himself to the cellarette through the door before dragging to the couch with his lunch in hand.  
Flower collapsed onto the couch beside him drink in hand instead. 

“The cellarette was locked.” He stated matter of factly. Sidney pursed his lips together as he simply nodded. 

“One time you told me that when it gets rough, you have to lock up the drinks. You never said more.” Flower sipped at his drink as he observed Sid trying to come up with a response. He took a bite of the salmon his gaze was burning a hole into. 

“Sid, I only want to help, please let me help.” Flower started as he clapped his hand on Sid’s knee, really forcing him to lock into the conversation instead of just brushing his friend’s concern off.

“What are you hiding?” He asked gently, motioning towards the pocket of the hoodie. Sid set his plate down, slowly putting his barely shaking hands into his pocket. He placed it in Flower’s hand, eyes looking down. Flower inspected it for a moment: a white plastic hospital band, adorned with Sidney’s name and medical numbers. 

“I was in the hospital till five this morning.” Sid told the coffee table he was looking down at, unable to lift his eyes to Flower. Slowly, he gripped the edge of his sweatshirt sleeve. Shoving it up, he moved his arm to place in front of Flower.

A white pad of gauze was taped onto his forearm, Sid nodded to invite Flower to lift it. Gingerly Flower peeled away the tape and bandage to show a wrist full of scars, many on different levels of healing, but most prominently two larger gashes being pinched together by lines of stitches. Flower felt his breath shake as he looked at it. Unbelieving of what he was seeing, he breath continued to shake and his fist curled in tightly. 

Sid pulled the bandage back on and grabbed Flowers wrist, uncurling his tightly balled fingers, revealing the small cresent he had been indenting in his state of shock.  
The goalie could only stare as Sidney forced his hands open but when Sidney quietly said  
“Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.” Flower simply broke. His centerman was endlessly caring for him and the whole team, while giving so little care to himself. The tears he didn’t even realize had been welling up were starting to trail down his face leaving Sidney with a tragically guilty face. 

“How long have you-been covering this?” Marc Andre Fleury could barely finish his sentence, only a few times in his life had the emotion been so thick in his throat to make him struggle to finish a sentence. 

“Off and on since Riimouski” Sid chewed his lip saying it, toying with a loose thread on the edge of the blanket hanging over the couch. 

“Who else knows?” the goalie wiped at his eyes as he continued to ask questions about the discovery. 

“Couple Rimouski guys found out when it got bad. A couple trainors have a little more than an idea. And, um, Nathalie as of this morning when she had to stitch me up at the hospital.”

“Wow, so you’ve really been carrying this one on your own.” Flower and Sidney shared a gaze with Sid’s newfound ability to eye contact. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I some good counselors around here, very discreet and private. They really helped Ve and I through losing the baby a few back” And with that suggestion Flower could almost physically see the walls of Sidney Crosby return. He shoved his sleeve back down to cover the bandaging. 

“Thank you, Flower. But, I'm fine.” Sidney returned his attention to the plate that held his lunch. He was done with this conversation, he could feel the anxiety bubble as he realized that today two people that he loves like family found out. His nails scraped at his knuckles on his other hand as his thoughts whirled. 

“You are not fine, Sidney. This is by no means ‘fine’” Flowers voice demanded listening to but as always still layered with caring towards his centerman. Sidney stood up grabbing his plate and leading towards the kitchen. 

“What did Nat say at the hospital?” Flower asked quietly stopping Sid in his tracks. 

“She offered to help me, stop i mean. She tried to get me to see a counselor from the hospital but I had her and only her treat me at all, otherwise I’d refuse treatment. She just wants me to get help too. But I'm fine, Flower. And I’m sorry for unloading all of this on you, I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind for your Tuesday afternoon” Sid laughed just a little as he continued into the kitchen as Flower followed. 

“Sid, you were there after the baby. You were there for my concussion. This isn’t a burden you have to apologize to me to carry. I want to be there for you, heaven and high waters.”

“Thanks, Flower.” He set down the plate and allowed himself to be hugged by his best friend. 

 

A week later, Sid had been hosting movie night as he did every two weeks. The guys came over just to chill and decompress while hanging out with the family of hockey players Sid had developed. As always, the next morning his house had a couple guys strewn around the guest bedroom and living room. Sid had been toweling his hair after he got out of the shower when he saw it. The frayed paper of the bolded ‘be better’ was covered in six pink sticky notes. Written largely on them replacing ‘be better’ was ‘you’re worth and value are more than hockey’ in Flower’s script. A tear started to well as his emotions began to overtake him.


	2. Flower is a real homie

A week later, Sid had been hosting movie night as he did every two weeks. The guys came over just to chill and decompress while hanging out with the family of hockey players Sid had developed. As always, the next morning his house had a couple guys strewn around the guest bedroom and living room. Sid had been toweling his hair after he got out of the shower when he saw it. The frayed paper of the bolded ‘be better’ was covered in six pink sticky notes. Written largely on them replacing ‘be better’ was ‘you’re worth and value are more than hockey’ in Flower’s script. A tear started to well as his emotions began to overtake him.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're looking for some more good depressing Sid Crosby stuff read this amazing piece of work by eams81:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744897
> 
> Written after a 4pm nap.


End file.
